Certainty
by Partly
Summary: Few things in life are certain.


_"The life of a spy is a short one. To some, it's one of the perks of the job. To most, it's just one of those things that you know and accept, like the possibility of being shot or captured or tortured. The possibility of death isn't as big a threat as a civilian might think._

_The same can't be said of the possibility of death of someone you love."_

The low echo of an explosion throbbed at the back of my head and I fought to catch my breath. Heavy black smoke snaked its way through the downpour of rain, the smell of gunpowder and gas tainting every breath I took. I pushed my way to my feet, struggling to rise above the black smoke. I had to keep moving. The sounds around me lagged in the background, fast and slow at the same time, pounding at the edges of my concussion, a wall of noise and pain pressing in against me. My thoughts were as chaotic as my surroundings, but a burning panic pushed me to move.

Standing allowed me to take two gulps of mostly smoke-free air but the angry whine of a bullet past my head drove me back into the toxic, roiling cover of the smoke. I threw myself forward on instinct, hitting the ground in a rolling dive that took me close enough to the flames to feel the heat from the burning car.

_Fiona's_ burning car. Even though I couldn't see through the dimness, I knew that Fiona's car was the source of the smoke and flames.

The murky blackness was split by a flash of light that was immediately followed by a rolling roar. I braced for another blast wave. It never came and a second later I realized that it was lightning and thunder rather than an explosion. The world sped up three beats and the new deluge of rain beat some of the smoke and flames down. Sirens filtered in through the static of my thoughts. I couldn't decide if police and firefighters would be a good thing or not. I couldn't even remember what, exactly, had led up to this moment. All I knew was that Fiona's car was in flames twenty feet ahead of me and the last time I'd talked with Fiona she'd told me she was making a run for the car.

I pushed myself to my feet again. Made two steps before a burning pain cut across my leg knocking me to the ground. At the same time the report of a gun rang out. iSniper on the parking garage across the way.i The thought didn't come as a new idea but rather as if I had known it all along but had forgotten it. In the same instant I knew that Sam was working his way to the top of the same garage and that there were two other people beside the sniper who wanted me dead. The rain, the sirens and the roar of the flames all grew louder and everything seemed to quicken by a step or two. The world blinked a shade or two brighter, a sign of the concussion effects rather than any outside force. Two breaths later and my head cleared enough for me to remember we were here for a hostage exchange, to remember that we'd pulled the little girl – Shasta – to safety just before everything went sideways, to remember that I'd been pinned down, to remember Fi running to her car, to remember seeing Fi climbing into the drivers seat.

Then, the explosion. She'd been in the car, then it exploded.

I pushed through the panic and pain in my leg and scrambled upright again, struggling to get to the car. Before I could move, a large shape materialized in front of me, knocking me backward. I hit the ground hard. Everything blurred and dimmed, my stomach flipped and I barely fought back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm me. The figure in front of me solidified into the sneering form whose name I knew, but couldn't think of. I recognized the gun he held as a .45, though.

I rolled to the left as he fired, then tried to dive for his legs. The concussion made me feel as if I were moving through molasses. I didn't come close to hitting him. Something else did, though. A lithe figure appeared behind him, wielding a baseball bat that connected solidly to his knees. A second blow to his back drove him to the ground. He didn't move.

Fiona dropped that bat and looked at me. "The cops are here, we have to go."

"Fi?" I tried to stand but my legs wouldn't cooperate. "You were in the explosion." I blinked and she was kneeling beside me.

"Damn it, Michael." Her hand pressed painfully against the side of my head. "Let's go."

"No." I shook my head, the world blinked to black around me, then Fi reappeared. Blood covered her hands. "You're bleeding."

"I'm fine, Michael. This is your blood." She pulled me to my feet.

It didn't make any sense. "I saw you… the car blew… I have to go…" I turned to the car. "I have to…"

She pulled me close, a soft hand on my face, her lips pressed against mine. The smoke and chaos faded and I could smell her perfume, felt the tender reality of her kiss. "It's okay, Michael. Come with me."

I leaned against her warm form. It still didn't make sense, but that didn't matter anymore. With Fiona it didn't have to make sense to be right.

_Few things in life are certain. That's even more true for a spy. That's why, when you do find one thing to believe in, you have to believe in it with all your soul. It may be the only thing that can save you._


End file.
